The old number had been there from the beginning, waiting for someone to take it seriously.

“What do you need from me?”

“Bring every original you have.

And do not let anyone alter, remove, or replace a page.”

At home, Renata had spread colored paper across the kitchen table, with the scissors lying beside a plate of toast she had forgotten to finish.

She was cutting out a family for a school project.

Four small figures stood in a row, though the last one had no face.

“That one needs eyes,” I said.